


And you still want more

by malfoysamortentia



Series: The healing [1]
Category: Queen - Fandom
Genre: 1974, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopefully there’ll be fluff too, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape, long haired Roger, please read the tags, probably, victim shaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoysamortentia/pseuds/malfoysamortentia
Summary: It’s 1974, Roger is just turning 25 and everything is just fine. Except it isn’t.





	And you still want more

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there y’all! Please PLEASE read all the tags, I don’t want to be triggering anyone.  
> Also, this was meant to be a giant ass one shot but I’ve decided to split it in three parts, my schedule is kinda messed up cause my work has sucked my life out of me but I’ll do my best.

He could feel it crippling under his skin, crawling into his bones, the awful sensation of helplessness settling heavy in his stomach and making it harder and harder to breathe, the room around him becoming a blurry mix of colours as he let out a wheeze.

“Roger babe, breathe. Try to take a deep breath in…” Brian was watching him, feeling as helpless as humanly possible. He tried to lay a caress on his hair, knowing how this usually made him calmer, but Roger had whipped back. There were just so many things Roger hadn’t told him, it made him sick. At first he didn’t want to worry him, but then it all became just so fucked up that he could only feel shame. He couldn’t let Brian touch him, because Brian was the purest human being he’d ever known, and if he’d touched him, his guilt would have ruined him, like an ink stain growing bigger and bigger and eating up the white and once clean sheet. After all, how could he tell him everything and expect him to love him nonetheless? How could he expect Brian to love him, when he himself couldn’t feel anything but disgust as he stared at his reflection in the mirror?

Brian offered him a glass of water and Roger reluctantly accepted it, taking small sips, focusing on the liquid running down his oesophagus, while his trembling hands kept the glass. Slowly, the world was steadying around him. The voices of John and Freddie no longer distant and muffled, the living room now defined and not the dizzy thing he was trying to look at just a minute before. He was starting to come back, shivering from the cold that had settled inside of him during the panic attack, over conscious of the worried glares pointed at him, trying his best to pretend like everything was alright and he hadn’t just had one of the worst panic attacks in his whole life.

Roger had always been anxious, he even knew taking three showers a day wasn’t the norm, but he was able to keep it all together. He lived with his little paranoias and he was kinda happy. And then his 25th birthday came, he was excited, he even agreed to go to the club because, why not?  
This is where it all went wrong.

“Roger, darling, happy birthday!” screamed an already pretty drunk Freddie in his ear. Roger just smiled and gave him a tight hug. “Thanks, Freddie”. 

John was dancing to Lady Of The Night by Donna Summer, long locks bouncing on his shoulders, a wide smile on his face. Brian, on the other hand, was sitting on a stool next to his, a pint in front of him and his eyebrows knitted together, probably lost in his own stream of thoughts, which was kind of disappointing considering this was his party, too. And Roger was just there, trying to enjoy the night, a tumbler of Southern Comfort in his right hand, and the absolute certainty that that drink was going to end up on white porcelain sooner than later. Roger used to like it, when he was younger and kind of stupid, as he grow older he realised it was awful, but kept drinking it out of habit, mostly when he was feeling nostalgic.

“So are the two of you going to come to the dancefloor, or are you going to spend the whole night sitting here like a couple of old creeps, just looking at people?” John’s energy was contagious and Roger found himself taking his hand and sashaying along with him to the centre of the floor. He wasn’t all that keen on dancing, and started nodding his head to the rhythm, that was until Honey Honey came on. As much as he’d liked to pretend to be a masculine guy, the kind who doesn’t dance and gives zero fucks about everything, he’d pretty much lose his dignity every time he heard ABBA. And his voice could reach notes so high, he’d be able to scare away every bat in a ten mile radius, but still he wanted to maintain his façade. Freddie was enough for the four of them. Brian was finally joining them, knowing that the blond was about to enter in full disco mode, singing at the top of his lungs and dancing awkwardly.

And he was right, because Roger had eyed him and had started shuffling his way, smiling like an idiot. He bumped his hip screaming “the way that you hold me tight (the way that you hold me tight)  
I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing” knowing damn well he’d blush like a fucking schoolgirl.

PDAs were out of Brian’s field of expertise, Roger, on the other hand, had no shame and couldn’t see anything wrong in palming his boyfriend’s ass in the middle of a packed club. He probably didn’t even realise he was grinding on him, cause that’s just how he was. Living his life at full speed, riding emotions as if his life depended on it, and Brian reluctantly put a little distance between the two of them.

“You having fun, babe?” Roger nodded, a bit too enthusiastically, and his sunglasses landed on the ground. The guitarist picked them up before they ended up smashed under someone’s feet. “Someday I won’t be here to pick them up and you’ll end up without glasses.” Roger pouted. 

“I know, I love you” and he placed a light kiss on his lips. “Will you dance with me, if I get that awful DJ to play something slow?” and Brian hated dancing, his legs too long for him to be coordinated, the feeling of being awkward and silly looking always there, but he’d let himself burn in hell’s flames, if Roger had asked for it; so he just nodded. “Sure, Rog.” And the blond started making his way towards the console.

***

“Oh my God, look who we’ve got here!” Roger turned his head to look at the person talking, not being able to recognize him. “Look at this little blond bitch, going around with these jeans… so tight on the ass, they should be illegal.” And Roger knew he wasn’t in the condition to pick a fight, so he just tried to ignore them, it’s not like it was the first time he got catcalled, men often thought he was a woman. It was going to be alright. Except it wasn’t. It didn’t seem as though the man had any intention to lose interest in him, and the blond was starting to realise the man wasn’t alone, meaning his every move was under careful eyes. “You want a drink, sweetie?” and Roger had no chance to answer, because a hand was pressed on his lower back, forcing him to walk to the bar, and the other was on his wrist, leaving bruises. 

“By the way, honey, my name’s Julian. Tell me something about you, don’t be so shy, we’re here to have a little fun, you and I, aren’t we?” luckily, the bartender came, giving Roger enough time to think about his options. He couldn’t get away, cause they’d catch him immediately. He couldn’t scream, for the very same reason. “Drink, sweetie. HERE’S TO US!”. Julian was chugging down his beer, and the blond took a sip of his drink. It was sweet and fruity, probably a Sex on the Beach, he thought. Roger scanned the room, trying to see one of the boys, but Freddie was probably getting fucked in one of the bathrooms, John was dancing next to a tall dude, and he couldn’t see Brian. “So you know what we’re gonna do? Now we go back to my place, where it’s much quieter, and have a little chat. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

“Actually I came here with someone, so they’ll be worried if I just go away” the drummer didn’t even know where the guts to say that came from. He wasn’t the type who disdained a bar fight, but this whole situation was giving him chills down his spine.

“Oh don’t you worry, you’ll be back before the night is over.” And just like that, before he could even answer, Julian was by his side, whispering in his ear that he’d better follow him without putting up a scene if he didn’t want anything bad to happen.

‘Focus. One feet in front of the other. Breathe in. Breathe out.’ The blond was trying to find a way to calm his nerves, stomach awfully tied and a sense of shame raging in his chest. Cheeks burning red, he felt a hot tear sliding down his face, and wiped it trying not to get caught. He wouldn’t let them win. Fact was, they weren’t going to his place, at all. Julian was just taking him in a alley behind the club, Roger was still focusing on his steps, trying to find a way to escape, and was caught by surprise when he felt Julian’s big hands on his shoulder, pushing him mercilessly against the wall.

“NO! NO!!!” It was now too late to scream, Julian’s mouth all over his, nasty hands exploring his body, leaving marks as reminders of just how weak he had been. The blond’s hands were clenched, nails carving his palms, and never in his life had Roger hoped to just die and make it quits, but he was now.

“Stop screaming like a fucking girl, no one’s gonna hear you here.” Julian remarked while unbuttoning his pants. “Just be good for me, be good for your daddy, and nothing bad is gonna happen. Will you be good for me?” his smirk was so disgustingly perverted, Roger couldn’t stand to look at it, neither could he answer. “I’ll take that for a yes.” One hand palming the drummer’s ass, Julian unzipped the blond’s jeans too. “See, it’ll be good, love. Oh, the plans I’ve got in mind for you, you have no idea!” he muttered excitedly.

Roger was still in shock, unable to speak a word. He watched Julian spit on his own hand and start massaging his half erected cock, it was about to happen and he couldn’t scream cause the voice wouldn’t come out of his lungs. He was trapped.

It was a matter of seconds: a couple seconds before he was watching Julian, and all of a sudden he found himself facing the wall, pants halfway down, the cold was giving him goosebumps. Roger wasn’t really one you’d call religious, but he was praying. Praying for it all to be over soon. Suddenly a sting of sharp pain had him trembling, with his eyes wide shut he just blacked out for a moment. 

“CHRIST!” he shouted. “STOP! STOP IT!” Roger was now crying desperately and tried to wriggle out from his grasp without succeeding. 

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, the grand finale awaits you, you little slut.” Julian stated, a bit breathless. After what felt like an eternity, he slid his cock out of him. Roger could still feel his muscles tightening and loosening to try and ease the situation for him. He didn’t feel Julian coming, and was now terrified of what was going to happen. “Turn around.” Roger stood still. “I said turn the fuck around, bastard.” One of Julian’s men took him by the shoulder and turned him, as Julian made a gesture with his hand, he got him on his knee. “You haven’t been good for me. So now you have to pay.” He started jerking off to finish, the man still keeping him still. In a creepy crescendo, Julian’s scream was mixed with Roger’s ones, as he came all over his face. Julian moved away a bit and another guy took his place. A Polaroid camera was pointed directly at his face. “Smile for the camera” Julian said, laughing maniacally, he then pointed to the other guy “make sure to take more than one, the whole world has to know how this stupid slut likes it.” 

“So here’s the fact: I know who you are. I know where you live. From now on, it’s gonna be my way, or I’ll sell these pics to the press. Might even keep one to send to your lovely boyfriend, though I’m sure he’s seen you like this more than once. No need to say that as soon as you contact the police, I’ll get you. Have a wonderful night, Roger, you’ll hear from me.” And just like that, Julian and his friends were gone.

Roger found himself alone and half naked on the sidewalk, crying his heart out while cum was quickly drying on his face and in his hair.

He painfully got on his feet, got dressed, and made his way back into the club, straight into the restrooms to wash his face and as he looked into the mirror he realised Julian was right all along, he was a dirty slut, he hadn’t reacted the way he should have. He finished cleaning his face and closed himself in one of the stalls, trying to take control over himself and pretend like nothing happened.


End file.
